Jagged Edges
by roadspavedwithgold
Summary: After being separated from Ragnorak, Lord Death leaves Kidd in charge of Chrona, helping him to get adjusted. But things are never simple, and obstacles of the past, of loss, and of duty stand in the way of a budding romance.  Male!ChronaxKidd
1. Savior's Wrath

With both of their massive neuroticisms, the relationship should have been impossible. Kidd was far from normal or functioning, despite having matured quite a bit in the years since the final battle against Asura. His battle with symmetry was still raging; the knowledge that his hair could become symmetrical was something that he was always torn about (he had even attempted to access the same level of power he had used in the battle on a daily basis. The memory of hospitalization was only a slight warning against trying it again.) Though he had finally learned to control himself in the face of an asymmetrical location during battle, it could still slay him in his everyday life. His penchant for paranoia and feeling of crushing responsibility due to being the next Death had yet to truly abate, either.

Chrona had improved on a much larger scale than the reaper, but because of the huge distance he had to go towards normalcy, the progress still left much to be achieved. His decision to go after the Lady Medusa had unleashed a strength in him; at the slightest hint of threat or need in his friends, the swordsman found himself able to deal with anything for their sakes. Yet Chrona, with his crippling anxieties and self doubts, still had no backbone for himself. Most of the populace was still terrifying. There were times when the things in Chrona's past had him retreating to Mr. Corner, wallowing in fear and misery. There were still times when he wanted to die. There were still times when he just wanted to be left alone, forever.

Somehow, despite the anxieties and eccentricities abound, their relationship did work. Death the Kidd was an impressive figure; while he has been handsome as a boy, as a young adult, he had continued to grow taller and broader in the shoulder. His sternness had not abated with age. Despite this, Chrona had come to find the man's thin strength a haven and a joy rather than a terror. Kidd had been Chrona's guide after the battle. Ragnorak had never rejoined him, and it was an ache that Chrona did not understand fully; though Ragnorak himself had been recovered into a human form of his own, he had spit in Chrona's face and walked into the desert. Weaponless, terrified, and suddenly mortal, the young half-witch had nearly given up completely. It was then that Kidd had become a part of Chrona's life.

Kidd didn't talk about emotion much. But every time the reaper adjusted Chrona's defensive stance, his hands were gentle as he cupped the pinkette's elbows. His words, though clipped and informative, were always soft. His patience never ended. Lord Death had made his son Chrona's keeper, to train and to teach in the ways of the world and of the DWMA. This was a constant effort, but not once did Kidd fail to be at the swordsman's side. Every morning, Chrona would step out of his room to find Kidd waiting, sometimes with and sometimes without the companionship of his weapons. Every meal, every break, every class – Kidd was there. His dedication raised the eyebrows of a few of his friends, but poor Chrona was a clueless as a newborn lamb.

Until the first time someone had tried to bully Chrona -the first and the last time.

Chrona had been seventeen, and had grown in the manner that was expected. His form remained lithe and androgynous, minus the new, lean muscle in his arms. His cheekbones had hollowed, not unbecomingly, and he had only become slightly more diligent in the tidiness of his hair. But he was still a shivering, pale slip of a boy with shadows under his eyes and an occasional stutter. He had always been the butt of a few quiet jokes behind hands, but none had dared to advance on Chrona physically before; rumor of his strong friendship with the four-star Meister Maka Albarn, as well as the Death Scythe Soul Evans, had gifted the boy a thin but ever-present shield from the minor cruelties of other students.

That shield did not apply to Raphael. Burly, arrogant, and only passably intelligent, Raphael was innately offended by Chrona's quiet, shivering nature. In his small and simple mind, anyone who would not fight for their reputation was a weak individual, unworthy of the stature of a DWMA student. In a twisted sense, he believed in what he did as a "cleansing." Though he had never mortally wounded another person, he had left a few bruises and sprains in his wake. Any more would have resulted in expulsion.

His advance was uneventful, as bullying typically is. The fear Chrona felt as he trembled in an empty hallway, backed up step for step, his fists raised in the poorest of defensive stands, was not. It was a fear he instantly disliked, crushing his eyes closed and screaming at himself to be a man about this, to stop being a coward, to knock the guy out. It wasn't as if Chrona was weak – years of intense physical training had been needed to wield Ragnorak with the level of deadly accuracy he had possessed. The very process of carrying black blood in your veins strengthens you to the core. But there was a component he lacked – the will to strike at someone he felt no righteous aggression towards. In Chrona's mind, he probably deserved this on some level or another. It had been ground into him that he was trash. Why should his lack of will be surprising?

Raphael landed one blow. With both meaty fists he had taken the fabric of his robe and forcefully thrown Chrona against the wall, resulting in a faintly echoing crack as his skull met stone. The resulting throb and blood had been instantaneous, a hot, damp matting of pink fringe in red. Chrona hissed through his teeth, putting a hand on the wall behind him to push himself back up with. Even that small effort cost him, his stomach swirling in his ribcage and black birds flitting across his vision. But before he could raise his head, there had been a crash and a cry of alarm. When he had managed to raise his head, he saw with his unfocused vision a familiar, unexpected, unmistakable figure. Kidd was standing before him, cool and erect, staring at the now crumpled heap of Raphael. He held no weapons, but his fists were clenched to white knuckles at his side. Chrona couldn't see his face, but the promise in the reaper's voice chilled his blood.

"If you ever come near this student again, it will be the very last thing you do with your body in one piece," the reaper told him, voice cold and unwavering. "I will personally see to it." As he was righting himself, he met Kidd's eyes momentarily; Raphael had let out a whimper of terror and sprinted in a most ungainly manner in the opposite direction. Chrona's last conscious thought as he slipped down the wall was that he would probably have run, too. He could remember the terror that came with meeting that glance at the wrong side of a fight. With the dimmest impression of Kidd turning, hands outstretched, the swordsman blacked out.

….

Kidd had sighed, then. It was obviously no cause for alarm. While the blow had been enough to knock him out, it was far from life threatening. With a crack of his neck, the reaper bent and picked up the alarming light frame of the other boy, sliding him onto his back, and started at slow, steady pace towards Chrona's rooms. There was no reason to jostle the pinkette unnecessarily with a light jog.

….

Since Ragnorak had left, Chrona had woken up alone. He felt the difference in the marrow his bones before he ever opened his eyes, or registered the cool, soft touch on his brow. The only noise in the room was two people's breath. The fingers rhythmically brushing the hair from his forehead were gentle and welcome, bearing with them a warm sent of clean, crisp linens and expensive cologne. Chrona was blissfully thankful, in a part of him that was still starved for affection and love, that the touch did not end as he opened his eyes, squinting against the dim light. He was unable to suppress a groan as the throbbing in his head thrashed at him with a vengeance, and the hand from his brow cupped the back of his neck, helping him to rise to a sitting position, knees close to his chest.

Kidd allowed him a moment of pain and stretching before speaking. "He will not come near you again, Chrona." Hesitantly, his trembling returning, he met Kidd's eyes; they were soft, but unreadable. He made Chrona endlessly nervous. He just wasn't sure if he could handle having Death the Kid actually pay attention to him. They were on completely different levels, in fighting, and only just more importantly, in life. "How does your head feel?" He asked, pulling in the pinkette's attention, who had been focusing on how nerve-racking the situation was.

"A-alright, I-I guess. Th-thanks for… rescuing me, I g-guess." Chrona's face flushed. He really was pathetic. And now Kidd had to come and not only witness this fact, but come to his aid. How absolutely mortifying. If he was there, Ragnorak would have been beating him intensely.

"It was my pleasure. I simply cannot allow you to be treated that way." This brought Chrona's face back up, eyes a little wide, in a mixture of surprise and confusion.

"Kidd…w-why are you being so nice to me!" he almost shouted, his voice a little too loud in his discomfort. Nothing was right. His head ached, there was someone in his room, someone who had defended him that wasn't Maka and who touched him softly and acted like he was…he was… almost important in some way. "You never forget me, you listen to the things I have to say, you never yell at me or scold me for screwing up or falling down or failing you, you take time out of every single day for me!" Something had unhinged, perhaps from that blow to his head or the touch on his hair, he couldn't be sure. "I don't get it," he said, his voice a tad forlorn. His eyes were laced with tears; angry tears – angry at himself, for being so pathetic, for being so weak, for being so awkward and strange. They gathered in his eyelashes, his eyes screwed shut and his face leaning in to his knees as he suppressed the emotion rising in his throat.

The hand under his chin was unexpected. It was soft, something of a hallmark in Kidd's treatment of Chrona, but insistent, and a confused and off-balance swordsman met his eyes. Kidd moved his hand to the side of his face, brushing his knuckles down Chrona's defined cheekbones. "Is it so hard to believe that someone views you as precious?" He murmured, head cocked just slightly to one side, the side with the three, asymmetrical stripes.

Chrona did not have an answer. With the barest of chuckles, barely a more than a breath given a voice, Kidd touched his hair one last time and turned to leave. The door shut behind him with a quiet click, and Chrona was left with a sense of puzzlement and a flicker of something unfamiliar in his chest.

….

Kidd slid down the wall, just around the bend in the hallway from Chrona's bedroom door. A whoosh of air came out of his chest, and he was smiling in a way that purely unusual for the young reaper. But that was the effect the swordsman had on him. Little and fragile and strange as he was, he had grown on him in the strangest of ways. And now that he was learning to keep his hair in proper order, he was lovely in his symmetry and simplicity. After spending day after day together for the last year, he had found that he cared for the disjointed little swordsman in a way he could never have predicted. Not only wanting to hold him, cherish him, kiss him (Gods, how many times had he imagined kissing him?) but to protect him, teach him, watch him grow into his own individual. He wanted to see him whole.

So when he saw the pinkette cornered by that walking meatball, his vision had gone white with rage. Chrona was by no means weak, but he spooked easily, and to watch someone take advantage of that was an unmitigated horror. So he ended it, coarse and low as it may have been, in the traditional manner among brigands – with his fists. But despite knowing he had seemingly lowered himself, he was conscious that word would also spread: that Death the Kidd, son of Lord Death and a Reaper, was protecting Swordsmaster Chrona. And the taunts would stop. And that was all that mattered.

Kidd ran a hand through his hair, smiling at the memory of the boy's weight on his back. He was small, but warm, and his clothes had smelled like wood smoke and cotton and cold winter air. Lonely smells that he loved. He had decided that he was tired of living without those smells. That he wanted to feel that warmth at night. That he wanted to know what that kiss felt like, not just imagine it. So he would strive, and work, and maybe even pray.

….

Chrona woke up in the warm embrace of Mr. Corner the next morning, his body rested and relaxed despite the curled up position he preferred. After the tension and confusion of last night, he had required the comfort of his old sleeping place. Maka had forced him to get used to sleeping in a bed, and for the most part, he did; occasionally, it just wasn't enough. He tentatively touched the back of his head, sifting through his hair to find nothing more than a small, curved split, already connecting. Sometimes, he struggled to deal with his life without the black blood. His skin almost never broke before. The few times he had seen his blood only helped to insulate his madness. Now, when he saw the same red blood that ran in everyone else's veins, he couldn't handle the little bubble of panic. "My blood is black, you know?" It was momentarily terrifying. But then he would remember that this was how he was supposed to be, that this was how normal people were. Right?

Shaking his head slightly, he had gotten up and proceeded to get ready for classes. Maka had taken him shopping with Tsubaki the moment he would allow it, choosing to get him a few other options than a black dress. It was strange for him; witches existed in a purely female society, so it was only reasonable that he had been made to dress like one. Now that he lived in the DWMA, Maka said that he should have "choices". On days where he had classes to go to, he tried to wear them, to make her happy; when he was free, he usually wore the same cloistered gown of his youth. He wore instead a pure black gakuran with small silver buttons, paired with nondescript black dress shoes. Soul said it was stuffy, but Kidd had approved of the decorum it displayed.

Kidd. He would be there in a moment to pick him up, Chrona was sure; well, mostly sure. He couldn't help the nibbles of doubt he always felt. Would this time be different? Would Kidd be cold towards him, or maybe not come at all, after their contact last night? Fear crept into the swordsman, making him nervously grip is forearm. He just couldn't handle this.

But his fears were for naught. The crisp, profession single knock on his door that always signaled Kidd's arrival caused him to jump a little, and he anxiously checked his hair in the mirror, to make sure it was symmetrical. It had been three years, but Chrona still struggled to understand the dressing rituals of his new home. He picked up his belted stack of books for the day and walked silently to the door, opening with a moment's hesitation and a blush on his cheeks.

"H-hello, Kidd," he stuttered, eyes downcast. "Th-thank you for coming to get me."

Kidd chuckled. "Will you thank me every day, Chrona? I enjoy your company." When Chrona didn't answer, he only smiled, turning in the direction of their class. He knew that the pinkette would follow his lead. "They're having a weapons' showing at the pavilion later. Would you like to attend with me? Perhaps there is a Weapon there you could resonate well with?" The question was soft. Chrona avoided these events like the plague. It had thus far been impossible for him to even consider choosing a new weapon. Deep in his soul, Chrona knew that he only wanted Ragnorak as his partner. He didn't know how to deal with anyone else.

But if I go, Kidd-kun will come with me.

"I-I'm not sure I know h-how to deal with that, K-Kidd-kun," murmured Chrona, his eyes flitting to Kidd's face to the floor and back again.

"You don't have to if you aren't ready. But you'd do well with a weapon partner; you're a strong meister. Any weapon would be proud to serve with you." The pinkette flushed at the compliment. "And once you have a weapon, we can determine what level you're at. I would judge you a three star meister at the least. You belong at the DWMA." Looking down at their feet, Chrona smiled. They were walking in time with each other.

"Thank y-you," he said. "C-can I just watch? I-I don't think I want t-to talk t anyone there." He wasn't sure of the proper behavior at such a showing.

"Of course. And I'll be with you. Would you like me to bring Liz and Pattie?" Chrona gulped a bit.

"Sh-she's really nice, but I d-don't know how to handle P-Pattie." At this, Kidd broke out into a full bought of laughter, his head tilted back.

"She's a bit much, I agree. She likes you quite a bit though. No matter. They've been itching to wear out my new black Miestercard anyway. I'll let them go shopping." Chrona felt a surge of relief, and chuckled nervously as Kidd opened the door of their classroom for him. When Kidd didn't follow, the swordsman turned.

"Y-you're not c-coming today?" he asked, somewhat alarmed. Kidd never missed class.

"My father wants to see me. I should be around just as class is ending. Take notes for me?" He asked, casting Chrona a small smile and a wave, heading in the direction of the Death Room. Chrona felt a bit disappointed, for reasons he didn't really understand, but went and took his seat next to Maka. Ever obedient, ever hoping to please, he took out his notebook and paid diligent attention to ever word from Professor Rin's mouth, copying it as clearly and as symmetrically as he was capable. Kidd deserved nothing but the best. As promised, Kidd slipped into an empty desk near the door five minutes before the bell went off, releasing them. Chrona was so engrossed in his note taking that he didn't even notice. But when the lecture was over, he glanced at the door, only to meet a pair of searing, focused golden eyes staring at him.

There was that funny feeling in his chest again.


	2. Testing Boundries

With a small smile and a wave, Chrona left Maka and Soul at their desk, walking down to meet Kidd. While the emotional bond between the pinkette and the now-famous duo had remained strong, they had begun to spend less time together as the relationship between Meister and Weapon had become openly romantic. While he couldn't be sure, it seemed to be the norm for couples to be largely secluded. Besides, with Kidd always around, he didn't get lonely.

The reaper smiled as Chrona drew nearer to the door to the classroom. Well, actually, he didn't smile. That was one of the strange things about Kidd. He didn't _really _smile in as much as his expression softened, his eyes warmed. He hadn't realized these details at first; Kid had always seem so severe, so intimidating to him in the beginning. Over time, Chrona had started to understand. And yet, as attuned as he had become to Kidd, he was completely oblivious to the meaning of this knowledge. No one knew the things that Chrona knew about Kidd, except perhaps Liz and Patti, who, as the reaper's weapons, were bound to know. No independent student, teacher, or enemy, knew the nuances of Kidd's personality, the depth of his heart, the extent of his mind. He was, to their eyes, distant and strong, but someone to be wary of.

His distracted musings were broken at the sound of Kidd's voice.

"Wha-what? I-I'm sorry, Kidd, I got distract." Chrona's face was flushed pink. Kidd shook his head in slight bemusement, but no malice.

"I asked you if you want to have lunch on the terrace with me before combat training. I know you like the quiet." Chrona then noticed the black book bag slung over Kidd's shoulder, holding, presumably, the lunch he proposed.

"S-sure," Chrona murmured, looking at the ground with a smile. He liked when Kidd asked to him to hang out. The walk to the intended site was a quiet one; such things often were between them. They were quiet people by nature, and there was no discomfort in it. Conversation would flare as it would.

The terrace wasn't an actual, man made place, but a location that was comfortable and beautiful, a bit far away from everything. Chrona had discovered it while walking aimlessly in the first few months of his time at the DWMA, and it had become his favorite. Only Kidd knew where it was. A large, relatively flat piece of slate sat in and clearing of trees, warm from absorbing the sun's rays from dawn till dusk, and a variety of wild flowers and bushes bloomed throughout the year. If there were places that made Chrona feel less anxious, this was definitely one of them.

Chrona set out a blanket on the stone while Kidd started unpacking their lunch. It really brought out how tall the reaper had become. His long legs were toned and shapely where the material of his pants was drawn taught, and the width of his shoulders was a pleasant extreme to the thinness of his waist at the base of his ribcage. And of course, there was his face.

Kidd had a nice face, as far as faces went. His cheekbones were very high and noble, with slanted, almond-shaped eyes. Chrona knew those eyes were a vibrant golden yellow, ring and rippled, dusted in feather black lashes. He had a sharp nose, complimented and softened by a lush mouth. Of course, all of Kidd's features could be cruel. Those eyes could sharpen like stones, like fragments of chilled metal; his lips could draw sharp and small, the brow and cheekbones and nose condescending lines of superior breeding.

In the moment when Kidd met Chrona's eyes, mid appraisal, they were none of these things. They formed a chorus of warm and amused as the pinkette flushed and stuttered. _I don't know how to deal with Kidd knowing I was looking at him!_ Kidd broke the eye contact, laughing quietly and gesturing to the picnic spread on the stone slab. "Come, sit, Chrona. Everything's ready."

...

As he had laid out the carefully packed dishes and foods from his pack, Death the Kidd had felt Chrona's gaze on him; not exactly intense. The pinkette was limited in his moments of intensity. No, it had been nothing more than a tickle, a consciousness of his eyes on his body. Honestly, Kidd wasn't sure that Chrona had even noticed what he was doing. Ah, well. He was innocent in a strange menagerie of ways, and this was one of them.

"Come, sit, Chrona. everything's ready." The panicked meister gripped his arm nervously, folding his legs under his body in one of his more feminine gestures. "Liz made everything, so I assure you it's delicious. I can't claim to be the best cook in the DWMA." As he spoke, he popped the lids off of the containers, allowing their aromas to enter the fresh air. Edamame, tuna rolls, hot dogs over rice, cut to resemble smiling squids and flowers, fresh baked bread, and sweet candied strawberries, with a thermos of hot tea to wash it all down - a veritable feast for the thin and somewhat appetite-less reaper and his timid companion.

"N-not a good cook, Kidd-kun? B-but you're good at everything," Chrona said, eyes glued to the candied strawberries. Food had been a luxury in it of itself in his childhood. Sweets - sweets were something he had tasted only often enough to mourn their lack. He wasn't sure he even knew how to deal with the abundance of their supply in this new life of his. "T-this is very generous. W-will you thank Liz for me? And you, too, of course, K-Kidd-kun."

"No thanks are needed for my part, Chrona, but I'll be sure to pass them on to Liz. And, no, I'm actually a rather terrible cook, to be honest. As the next Death, I never had the need to do my own menial tasks." He paused, taking a bite of fresh bread. Chrona's plate was only lightly graced by the elegant bites before them, with only one of the coveted strawberries in site, pushed to one side away from all the other food. "Chrona," he said gently, placing his form on his plate with a soft touch, "You can have as much as you want. I brought everything here for you."

Chrona glanced up sharply, face flushed, before looking stubbornly at the weave of the blanket. His grip on his arm returned and tightened. With a sign, Kidd put his plate to the side and slid next to the shivering pinkette, who refused to look up. Sometimes, simple things were a struggle for Chrona. While stable, there would always be a little madness in him. When Kidd slipped a hand under the meister's chin, and, bringing their gazes level, he found them a little less whole than he was used to. "I-I wanted to give them to the little one, but Medusa said... Medusa said that the little one had to die. I didn't want to hurt it." His shivering had gotten worse.

Kidd's heart wrenched in his chest, and before he could think better of it, he gently drew the smaller boy to his chest, wrapping his arms around him. His lips were buried in soft pink hair (hair that smelled like loneliness, wood smoke and cotton and cold air smells). His posture hadn't changed, neither stiffening at the contact or softening at the touch, but the lack of resistance was pleasing.

"All those things happened when you were alone, Chrona," Kidd whispered into his hair (wood smoke and cotton and), "When things were scarier. But that's all over now. You have Maka, and Soul, and Tsubaki. And you have me, Chrona. With my dying breath, I will protect you. Nothing like that will ever happen to you again." And as he said it, he knew, perhaps he had known for months now, that the words were true. Unless he wanted it, Kidd would never, ever leave Chrona's side.

They stayed like that for a long time, until the muscles in Kidd's legs had started to nap and his murmurings blended together. But as the time passed, Chrona's shivering abated, and eventually, his voice could be heard whispering out from beneath his hair. "Hey, Kidd-kun?" His voice was soft and a little sleepy. Kidd hummed an acknowledgement into the pink hair at his lips. "I think I can handle this." Kidd chuckled, his arms tightening a little around Chrona's form. "Hey, Kidd-kun?" Chrona's face turned up to look at the reaper, who's eyes had relaxed to a half mast.

"Yeah, Chrona?"

"Why are we like this?" His eyes were calm, but a little confused. This time, Kidd smiled a little, really smiled. Chrona's unturned face was like a pale moon. Instead of answering, Kidd lowered his lips softly, so softly to Chrona's.

It was a very slow, but very chaste kiss. Still, Kidd's blood was soaring in his veins. While the pinkette didn't really kiss him back, his lips softened, and his eyes shifted closed. As the reaper drew back, a little sigh escaped the smaller boy, and he shifted his head right under the black haired boy's chin. Another chuckle escaped Kidd, whispering warm breath through Chrona's hair.

So this is what it feels like to hold the world in your arms.

...

By the time they had cleaned up the terrace, they had missed combat training. Despite his promises that he would simply have his father write them an excuse not for Professor Sid, Chrona was both fretting and had a permanent blush on his face. _I wonder when we'll actually talk about this, _the reaper thought to himself with amusement, but didn't both to address it in words. After all, his pinkette had had more than enough stress for one day. In fact, Kidd would go so far to say that Chrona was holding up admirably to new experiences; he'd grown a lot in the last two years.

Still, the silence on the walk back to the DWMA was a bit more tense than usual. Chrona was locked up in his own head, trying to make sense of everything and undoubtably making a good situation dour. Kidd smiled to himself at the thought. He would have to go very, very slow with the pinkette. In all likelihood, the only functioning romance he boy had ever seen was probably Maka and Soul, and they tended to be a tad _volatile - _not at all a reflection of what the reaper wanted for the meister and himself.

Even such reasonable thoughts couldn't pull Kidd from the happiness of the day. Despite the moment of Chrona's instability, not only had he been able to hold the pinkette, but he had _kissed him. _And Chrona had been okay with it. That was enough to put a spring in even the most serious reaper's step. Mid musing, they reached the door to the meister's room.

"Do you still want to accompany me to the pavilion later, for the weapons showing?" Chrona shifted back and forth a little, perhaps weighing the question in his mind. "You don't have to go, Chrona," Kidd said, a little softer, making sure there was no emotion in his voice. The pinkette would pull a decision from perceived emotion.

"Well, I...I-I don't know if I can handle looking for a new partner, Kidd-kun," Chrona whispered. His face was turned down, but there seemed to be tears in his voice. "I-I know it's stupid. Everyone thinks so. He was always so mean to me, and he did terrible things to my friends. But I m-miss Ragnorak. I miss him all the time. I-I don't think I can handle anyone else... I'm weak." His voice had dwindled to a whisper.

"Chrona." Kidd's voice had become firm, the top he used when adjusting Chrona's battle stance or lecturing on symmetry. The meister straightened on instinct. "You are not weak. You and the demon sword were bonded since infancy. Any meister would struggle with the concept of losing a life-long weapons partner, and they could not imagine the closeness of sharing body, mind, and soul the way you and Ragnorak did. You. Are. Not. Weak."

This time, Kidd did not touch the sword meister, only step close, so close, so that there was only a handbreadth between them - just enough that Chrona would know he was not alone. For a moment, there was silence.

And then there was a hiccup. Chrona was definitely crying. "H-hey Kidd-kun?" Shakily, nervously, achingly unsure, Chrona detached the grip from his arm to tentatively extend a hand to Kidd. "W-would you stay here with me i-instead?"

...

_This is a really bad idea, _Chrona thought, extending a hand to the reaper. But he was scared and upset and so very tired of being alone at night. It had been a very trying day, and now, he wanted to do something Maka always said he should - trust his friends.

_Though, Kidd-kun isn't just a friend, _he thought. Shaking his head a little, he forced himself to say, "W-would you stay here with me i-instead?" He could see that Kidd was taken a little aback, and felt disappointment hit him like a familiar shackle. He shouldn't have said anything. Why would Kidd want to stay with him? He had real friends -

"Anything you need, Chrona. I'd love to stay with you." And then he smiled one of his not-smiles, taking the pinkette's outstretched hand. "Lead the way." After a moment of adjustment, the meister nodded, pushing open the door without letting go of the reaper's hand. The door shut with a solid click, and the candles in the room lit. Chrona shuffled to the center of the room, standing a little awkwardly. When Lord Death was unable to get the pinkette to leave the dungeon-esque room he had been confined to, Maka and Tsubaki had taken it upon themselves to spruce up a bit.

The cement walls had been painted a pale cream color, completely gender neutral for their gender neutral friend. The spartan twin bed had been replaced by a simple, black lacquered queen sized palette bed with cream and black bedding, pushed into a corner. The bars on the window had been removed, using Blackstar's brute strength, and they had added a pane of glass to let in the sun. He also was given a dresser for his clothes, a floor length mirror, and a few shelves to hold his meager possessions. All in all, it was spacious, though a little minimal.

It was also completely asymmetrical.

Tension filled Kidd's back. "Um, Chrona... do you mind if I... uh, rearrange, a little? It's a little asymmetrical." Sweat was now beading on his brow. Chrona gave him a wan smile.

"Go ahead. It doesn't matter to me, Kidd-kun." The meister hadn't even been finished giving the reaper permission when Kidd started flying around the room, readjusting for perfect balance. It would be a little hard to find extra furniture on such short notice, so he would have to tolerate a more simple level of complimenting balance. All in all, the process took barely more than a moment.

Brushing off his hands, Kidd switched his focus to Chrona, only to see him wavering on his feet from exhaustion. Looking out the window, the reaper could see that the sky had darkened to a velvety indigo. He smiled to himself. Chrona could be such a little kid. The black haired boy shrugged off his dress jacket, hanging it over the back of a straight backed chair and walked towards the pinkette. He sat himself on the edge of the bed, kicking off his shoes and gesturing to the smaller boy. "Come on, Chrona. You're tired. Let's lay down.

The thin boy nodded with his trademarked anxiety, bending down to remove his shoes and to carefully unbutton the jacket of his gakuran, draping it carefully over Kidd's before lying down next to him. His body was tense, but his proximity was still near to the older boy. Slowly, his breathing started to even out, until he was almost sleeping. It was then that Kidd wrapped his arm around the boy's slim waist. The boy was so close to sleep that rather than tense, he did something utterly unexpected: he scooted gently into the curve of the taller boy's body, wrapping his hand around the reaper's arm.

"Kidd-kun...", he sighed, a small smile on his face as he fell asleep, not lonely or cold for the first time in over a year.

Almost peaceful.

...

A/N: Sorry it's been so long guys, and thank you for the very kind reviews! Because of your words, I decided to spend the last 4 1/2 hours writing this for you. It's a little shorter than the last chapter, but I hope you enjoyed it! R&R!


	3. X's and O's

As he watched the pinkette sleep, Kidd mused. Reapers do not sleep in the way that their human counterparts did, just as they healed and nourished their bodies in different quantities. On peaceful days, Kidd lulled himself into waking dreams with beautiful memories and imaginings of symmetry. On most, including tonight, his thoughts were drawn to more somber topics. Chrona helped him to put away the darker things for a time; the smaller boy needed protecting. And so Kidd had put aside his thoughts of his father's conversation earlier that day. The small swordsmeister had never even thought to ask.

...

"He-lllooooooo son! How's it goin'?" There were times when Kidd found his father's adjusted, goofy voice to be demeaning to the Shinigami's position. This was one of those moments.

"Father, for what reason have you called me? You generally choose to leave me to my studies." Kidd stood as he always stood before his father: erect, straight shouldered, stone faced. Business between reapers, even father and son, as never to be trifled about. His father chose to adjust to his more serious tone of old, more menacing, reminiscent of a darker time. The mask, however, remained the same.

"To business then, Kidd. There have been sightings... incidents involving the Demon Sword." Kidd felt his body tense at the mention. No one had forgotten the day that Ragnorak had abandoned his meister, refusing to conform to the system that left him only as an equal to his peers. Something had died in Chrona that day, never to be resurrected.

"Where? What incidents?" Kidd strove to keep his tone professional. _I am a Reaper, the next Lord Death. I am without bias, I am without prejudice, I am without revenge. Death views every man alike. _Perhaps that was why Kidd had yet to be made the new Death, for his breast burned with cold flame, hundreds of times more deadly than the rage he had felt when Raphael had cornered his pinkette.

"Reports have said that an ebony-skinned youth, a Weapon, bearing a pale, x-shaped scar over his his face and chest has been slaying humans and ingesting their souls." Death paused for a moment, allowing the gravity of such a charge to set in. "We cannot allow another kishin to be born into this world, my son." Kidd clenched his fists at his side.

"Has he begun to display such characteristics? So soon?" The young reaper wracked his mind for the history of the original kishin. To the best of his knowledge, Asura's descent into evil had started slowly- started with fear. What was Ragnorak afraid of? Or had his father, yet again, failed to tell him the whole truth?

Death paused a moment before answering. "No. As displayed while he and Chrona were still in a state of symbiosis, Ragnorak seems relatively unaffected by the consumption of human souls. We've yet to learn why, but Justin theorizes that it is perhaps that he doesn't have the same moral compass as others - he doesn't judge their harvesting as morally wrong." Death paused again, head cocked to one side in a trademark illustration of thought. "It's impossible to say for sure at this moment. But regardless of these things, he must be stopped from harvesting human souls. In it of its self, it is a crime worthy of death, even without the risk of transformation."

Kidd clenched his fist, but did not display his inner struggles beyond that. Could he really kill Ragnorak? A being that, while clearly of darkness and who had caused his swordsmeister much misery, was deeply connected to the heart and mind of his pinkette. As a reaper, he was obligated to put the well being of mankind above his personal relations and needs. Was he even strong enough to destroy a Demon Sword?

"I know you are attached to Chrona, Son." HIs father's voiced softened a little. "I know it grinds on your heart to kill someone the boy loves." Kidd ducked his head, gritting his teeth a little. "And so I leave you this choice: think on this. I trust you to make your own judgements on how this situation should be handled. If you find yourself unable to take on the task I've laid on your shoulders, I will select others to attempt it. However, you are my first choice. A Reaper should handle this." Kidd lifted his head to meet his father's eyes, nodding his head once in affirmation.

"I will give this serious consideration, Father. I will try not to fail you." With a crisp bow, the dark haired boy left the room.

...

Kidd's grip on Chrona's body tightened slightly, causing the smaller boy to shift in his sleep. The reaper immediately relaxed, unwilling to wake the pinkette. What could he do? If the accusations on Ragnorak were true, he must be stopped. Clearly, he was strong; at least when he had still had a meister, the demon sword had defeated Kidd. And what of the young meister? What of Chrona, who so clearly ached for the loss of the monster? Could he look at the boy he cherished if he killed his partner?

"_Kidd-kun..."_ A breathy whisper lifted from the boy curled to his chest, murmured in his dreams, pulling the Reaper from his dark musings. A smile, unconscious, graced Kidd's features, and he pressed his nose into soft pink locks. This boy - this young man, he reminded himself, only just younger than Kidd himself - had crept into his heart. How could he possibly do anything that would harm him?

A young man - Chrona was nearly an _adult. _And as a precious person in his life, a person he trusted and respected above all others, there was only one thing to be done. He would talk to Chrona about Ragnorak.

The pinkette tightened his grip on Kidd's arm, murmuring pleasantly. Yes, he would talk to Chrona - in the morning.

...

Chrona awoke warm. Had it not been so pleasant, it would have shocked him straight from the comforting haze of rest that he was wrapped in. Thin by nature, paired with years of neglect and poor eating habits, the pinkette was constantly freezing. Two bands of heat were wrapped around his middle, cased in fine white cloth, smooth to the touch. Arms. The smaller boy stiffened as he realized that arms were generally attached to people, and he froze entirely, deer in headlights, as he felt tickling breathe whisper through his hair to caress the nap of his neck. "You're fine, Chrona." The voice was undeniably familiar, and he relaxed - slightly.

The sky was still dark through the small window; it couldn't have been much past midnight, and the snoring moon was high and lazy among the stars. Kidd had only nodded briefly, largely lost in thought, but he had stirred into full awareness as Chrona began to surface from sleep. He fretted momentarily on the undoubtably wrinkled nature of his once crisp dress shirt, but put it from his mind. His boy was awake.

"H-hello, Kidd-kun." The words crept up from under his armful, who's voice was only sleepy, soft, and a tad anxious, his face yet unturned, a hidden moon. Kidd felt his heart swell at the sweetness of the moment. The reaper only hummed contentedly into Chrona's hair. There was no real reason for him to be awake yet. Let him laze about in the murky waters of dreams. For a time, there was only silence, and the boy had relaxed quite to the point that Kidd was quite sure he had fallen asleep again. Not for the first time, the swordsmeister surprised him. "K-kidd-kun...are we like Maka and Soul now?" The question was tentative, but not fearful. There was a raw curiosity that lacked expectation in it. No, the fear and expectation resided in the black haired boy, who's chest had tightened drastically.

"Would you like to be?" he whispered, his words a little breathy for his liking. There was too much emotion in it. Not cool, Soul would have said.

Chrona thought for a moment before he answered. "You wouldn't hit me with books, or yell at me, or call me stupid. I don't think I could handle that. But I like being close to you, Kidd-kun. Like Maka likes to be close to Soul." Again, his response lacked fear. Only thoughtfulness filled his voice. Kidd could have danced.

"And I like to be close to you, Chrona, like they do with each other. It would give me great joy to be your partner." Chrona's head shot up, his shoulders turning so his weight rested on one elbow. He had not left the brace of Kidd's arms in the process.

"You aren't a weapon, Kidd-kun!" He said, his tone sharp in his confusion. Internally, the reaper smacked himself.

"Not that kind of partner, dear." The endearment surprised him. "A romantic partner. A boyfriend." HIs voice softened as he said the word. It was more than he could ever hope for from is tentative swordsmeister. Again, Chrona thought, a blush suffusing his features.

"Would anybody be mad?"

"No, Chrona," Kidd chuckled, "No one would be mad."

It was then that chrona truly shocked him. Despite his hands shaking ever so slightly, he placed one thin hand against the reapers chest and pushed solidly, so that the dark haired boy was full on his back. Chrona shifted once more, so his hips turned in toward his companion, and he kept that thin hand on his chest. The other held him up, supporting him as he leaned down to capture the lips of one very, very surprised reaper.

It was like electricity. There were none of the typical signs of attraction in the kiss - no open lips, no dancing tongues, no moans. But this kind of action on Chrona's part was sign enough. The heat that rose up between them during that simple kiss was a quickly catching flame. So when Kidd, a little rashly, leaned up to add pressure to the soft lips on his own, a dam broke. Chrona pressed his entire side up agains the reaper, his chest leaning into his are his hands found Kidd's impeccable asymmetrical hair. It was Kidd who reigned himself in, keeping his hands about Chrona's waist lightly instead of pressing their bodies together, instead of flipping the pinkette on his back. The now shrunken rational part of his brain was telling him to let the smaller boy be in control.

This became extraordinarily hard when Chrona released a small, mewling moan against Kidd's lips. Against his own rationale, the reapers lips parted, soft, begging the smaller boy for more - _more, please._ It was then that Chrona checked himself for the first time, doubt flooding his frame as he drew back, just out of reach of Kidd's lips, eyes cast anywhere in the room but down onto his partner's face. This was uncharted territory. Chrona was as innocent, sexually, as they came. Kidd made the distance.

Softly, the way you would caress a frightened animal, he slid his own fingers, elegant yet calloused, through the array of pink hair above him, drawing Chrona to him with a gentle insistence. Still tense, the boy complied, and a rigidity entered this kiss that hadn't existed in the moments prior. Kidd was not deterred. He chastened his kisses, leaving them soft like flower petals on Chrona's cheeks, brow, chin, jaw, until he felt the boy begin to relax. He kissed him once on the lips, lingering, before pulling away to meet Chrona's eyes.

Watching the boy's eyes flutter open, out of focus, in a flurry of lashes, his cheeks tinged pink and his mouth as red as cherries was one of the single most beautiful things the reaper had ever witnessed. It was then he smiled a true smile.


	4. Take Me with You

Kidd's smile was like the cresting dawn. Chrona felt his chest tighten at the wonder of it, of this rare sight, and wondered for a moment if he was the cause. No, he thought, someone like him couldn't make someone like Kidd smile. But it was true, and the blushing, nervous, blissfully happy pinkette dropped onto the reaper's chest, nuzzling his face into the boy's throat, hiding his bashful expression in the warmth that always emanated from his body. Kidd chuckled, deep and low and rumbling in the smaller boys ears, thrumming through their connected chests as his arms tightened around Chrona's lithe frame. They were as close as two people could be with clothes on, and this pleased them both to their cores.

Their hearts slowed in tandem as they settled and stilled, their breath easing until it was shallow and regular. Chrona had drifted to sleep on top of the reaper, secure for the first of many nights to come. Kidd had no inclination to make this night a rarity. Despite his desire for the boy, young Death had no intention of pushing Chrona at any pace. Things would progress naturally, and in the mean time he was content to spend his nights curled around the smaller boy's frame.

He wondered idly what kind of lover Chrona would be in his glory, when he was solid and secure. Would he be as timid as he was in his daily life? A delicate bloom to be handled with care? Or would the iron that the pinkette showed in righteous battle, the iron he showed in _surviving _years of neglect and abuse, come through in the bedroom? A young warrior, matching Kidd step for step? Would he be adventurous? Curious? Scarred? Perhaps all of these, in turns and cycles as a waxing and waning moon, as the tides of the ocean. Kidd doubted that any of these could make Chrona less than his match and mate. Reapers do not love like humans do. More intense, more rare, more enduring.

Perhaps it was these thoughts that lulled the reaper into such a relaxed state that he didn't sense what was amiss. Perhaps he was simply tired, or attentively focused on the pinkette. Whatever the reason, he did not sense the man peering in the high window - a man with an x-shaped scar marring his features.

Ragnorak was not pleased.

...

"Kidd and Chro-na sittin' in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n- OUCH!" Maka cracked Blackstar soundly atop the head, stopping his impudent song midway. Chrona, flushed and embarrassed, scootched a little closed to the reaper on the bench they were sharing, and Kidd placed a protective arm over his shoulders. Anyone other than Blackstar would have dropped dead from such a look from such a man, but the obnoxious meister simply went on howling, yelling at Maka as he ignored Tsubaki's mixture of nagging and fretting. The classroom was in its typical uproar, just as it should be. Professor Stein slid into the classroom on his rolling desk chair, and education began as it usually did at the DWMA. Everything seem right in the world.

Better than right. While they hadn't truly announced anything, no one missed Kidd and Chrona's interwoven hands as they entered the classroom, the reaper looking as serious as usual. The pinkette had been flushed and stammering, but a timid smile graced his lips, even as Maka made a fuss and Soul gave Kidd a thumbs up. "_Very cool, guys."_ But Blackstar had always been a bit much for Chrona, and while he was a little slow on the uptake by comparison to his friends, he was by far the loudest and most uncouth when he did catch on. Chrona didn't know how to handle being teased by Blackstar.

Inside his mirror room, Lord Death smiled at his son, checking in on him from one of his portals. It was good to see the boy doing what young men should. He had a fondness for all his students, the demon swordmeister included, and his approval ran deep. But the tone of his thoughts changed as he sighed, switching from his son's class to the lists on his desk. So much to be done. Even with the Kishin dead, evil managed to rear it's head in many places. It was time to take his daily reports from the death scythes positioned throughout the world, as well as his broader range of contacts in each sector to retrieve complaints of malign activity. From these reports he would create missions, classed based on their perceived difficulty. As he scanned the lists, his found his gaze returning over and over to one entry, circled in red ink. Ragnorak. He had not told his son everything, only enough that he might make an informed decision. It was important to limit the factors that would lead the boy to a biased decision. A Reaper must be without leaning, a center of morality and righteous judgement, able to remove himself from attachment. Had he known that Ragnorak appeared to be working his way towards the DWMA, that would have been even less possible.

This was not an easy issue. What did the weapon want? The options seemed limitless. Perhaps revenge on the DWMA, or on Chrona himself? Would he attempt to attack the school, or its students? While a bit optimistic, it was possible he had come for amicable reasons - to reunite with his swordsmeister, or seek asylum and rehabilitation. Perhaps he had no intention of coming into Death City at all. The trail of reports traveling across the globe did not suggest as much. They started deep in South America and began winding their way straight towards them, the severity of the incidents increasing with ever hit.

There was a utilitarian coldness to all of the attacks thus far, leaving no doubt that they all originated from a single perpetrator. The victims were killed quickly, efficiently, and with seemingly no warning - no signs of struggle, no shouts, not even an expression of fear on the faces of the dead. There was no cruelty in it, only the routine accessing of a food source. Perhaps it was that attitude which rendered Ragnorak apparently immune to the symptoms of kishin conversion. Death could only hoped it stayed that way.

The Shinigami drew himself out of the deep well of his thoughts, surfacing to return to the matters on paper before him. There was nothing to be done in any direction until his son came to his decision. He prayed that the attacks would be limited until that time.

...

That day had been a perfect one, and it pained Kidd to bring that joy to a - hopefully temporary - close, but the matter of Ragnorak and his obligation to his father could not be pushed away any longer. A more than a full day had passed since his conversation with the current Lord Death, and he would not have the deaths of more innocent humans on his hands for the price of his own contentment. For a conversation like this, Kidd brought Chrona to the one place he thought the boy felt truly secure.

Seated on the cool stone of the pavilion, the reaper took the boys hands in his own larger ones, steeling himself to be cool yet compassionate. The sides of himself - reaper and lover - were at war in this. How could they ever been united again, or before? Chrona was visibly anxious. "Kidd-kun, I d-don't know how to handle you acting like th-this," he murmured, shifting a little in his spot. His hands tightened on the darker haired boy's, which caged his own like a frightened bird's nest. What could this possibly be about? Did Kidd realize, already, how worthless he was? Was he leaving now? Kidd's thumb stroked the top of Chrona's hand.

"Shh, pet. I have to be a reaper now, and what I'm about to say might upset you, but I promise you, I will be beside you in everything." Unsure, confused, Chrona nodded, looking Kidd in the eyes a steadily as he could. "There having been attacks... and sightings of Ragnorak."

The blood drained from Chrona's face in a single instant, leaving him grey skinned and wide eyed. Every muscle in his body was drawn tight as a bow with shock. "Ragnorak..." His voice cracked a little and tears came to his eyes. The concern emanating from Kidd was palpable, but he continued.

"My father has asked me to take a mission against him. Such a mission would either end in life imprisonment... or death." He swallowed, steeling himself. "But he gave me the option to pass this mission to another, knowing that I care for you." Chrona's somewhat unfocused eyes met Kidd's. "I do not want to be the one to cause you pain, Chrona," he murmured, drawing the boy to his chest. He was shivering. His smaller hands clutched at the fabric of the reaper's jacket. Kidd spoke into the pinkette's hair, attempting to calm him with his body as he destroyed him with his words. "Chrona, I will not take this mission if you do not want it. I will send another. But it is a reaper's place to take it. He is killing innocents, Chrona. Killing humans for their souls." He paused. "It is my place to guard this world."

There was silence between them. Chrona hid, deep in himself and deep in Kidd's arms, struggling to grasp at reality. How, and why? Ragnorak, his beloved and his tormentor, had become that? Ragnorak, who had left him broken and alone? _My blood is black, you know?_

No. It had been black.

But not anymore.

Chrona lifted his head, meeting Kidd's eyes, dark gold with anxiety. "Take me with you. Take me with you to find him." His own voice sounded foreign to his ears, strange and solid and strong. Kidd's eyes grew wide, and then his expression strengthened, smoothed - the face of a reaper. He nodded, acknowledging Chrona's decision. Together, then.

"I'll tell my father."

...

Reaction were mixed when they broke the news of Ragnorak's sightings and the related mission to their friends. For a moment, everyone was silent as their eyes shifted to Chrona, taking in his stance and expression. Maka was the first to move, coming forward to hug her friend. "You know we're here for you, Chrona." He nodded, his eyes hard. Soul only laid a hand on Kidd's shoulder, nodding in Chrona's direction and speaking in low tones. The private conversation was short, and the two men met each others eyes, grasping forearms before Soul returned to his meister. Blackstar was yelling in the background as always, talking about taking on the demon sword, furious the Lord Death didn't select him, and he showed no signs of quieting down any time soon. Patti was laughing and clapping her hands, ditzy as usual, but Liz looked hard and concerned. They had been defeated by the demon sword before. This was no cake walk mission.

Kidd had suggested they tell their friends before talking to his father. His gut said that they would be leaving immediately after, and Maka wouldn't take kindly to any sudden and potentially prolonged disappearance on Chrona's part. Her maternal instincts could easily lead to injury of anyone unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity of her nearest textbook. Chrona was being unusually quiet, answering largely in nods or single words; he had shifted into the steel that he only showed when fighting for something he believed was greater than himself, something righteous. So Kidd did the talking, explaining the minimum of what had happened and what they were being sent to do. Whenever he stole glances at his pinkette, the boy's eyes were far away and hard.

And when all but Liz and Patti had left, he remained that way, fists clenching and unclenching unconsciously at his sides. No matter. Kidd ordered the twins into their weapons forms and stepped atop Beelzebub, extending his hand to Chrona. "To my father, then." Chrona nodded, taking the reaper's hand in his own. Of his own accord, he stepped into the circle of kids arms, their bodies pressed to each other to balance on the flying board, and in the midst of everything, amidst the stress and fear of the coming battle, Kidd softened a little when he felt the swordmeister's arms wrap around his neck, his warm breath soft against his throat. Amidst war, he had found his haven. Checking the holstering on Liz and Patti, he tightened his grip on the smaller boy and looked on to the DWMA.

...

The meeting was a brief one, and they had set out on Beelzebub just as the laughing sun fell exhausted into the horizon. The desert wind was cool on their bodies, their thoughts busy, their mouths silent. Kidd was conscious of the new and cold weight on Chrona's back, the feel of metal beneath his fingers as he held the meister to him.

"You cannot go into battle defenseless, Chrona," Death had said, pulling from the folds of his black cloak a long blade. "This is Ember. It is a close to a magic tool as you will hold in your life." The sword was thin and keen, the deepest matte black imaginable, so that it seemed to eat light rather than reflect it. "I worked this sword from a meteor when I was a boy. It will serve you well, though not as well or in the same manner a Weapon would. Such things cannot be helped." Death laid the sword on the flat palms of Chrona's upraised hands, dismissing the boys with a bow. "Godspeed, students."

They had been flying for hours since that dismissal, and Kidd could feel the pinkette's body begin to fatigue from hours of standing. The moon was high in the somewhat cloudy sky, leaving the night darker than usual. The reaper sighed internally, unused to the lower endurance of a partner. Regardless, they would have to make camp. Chrona resisted, insisting in sleepy tones that they move forward. Kidd said nothing, only meticulously and efficiently making a small fire in the shadow of a large dune, laying out his cloak. Sitting, the reaper patted the larger section of cloth next to him, and with some hesitation the frowning meister obeyed, laying the sword reverently at his side before nestling into Kidd's arms. The reaper kissed his forehead, winding his body around the boy's to ward of the night's chill. "We will begin our hunt in the morning, my heart. We will find him."

And from the darkness a deep voice resonated. "Too late."

Ragnorak had found them.

...

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A/N: Thank you all for your lovely reviews! I'll try to get these chapters out a little faster from now on. My fiancee just deployed to Afghanistan and I'm prepping for a new job, so things have been a bit crazy, but no more! Much love, roadspavedwithgold.


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